


Golden Strands of Fine Lines

by SullenLarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Album: Fine Line (Harry Styles), Cuddling & Snuggling, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Harry is a Cupcake!, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Painted nails make Harry beautiful, Simon Cowell Being An Asshole, briefly mentioned, chasm - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SullenLarry/pseuds/SullenLarry
Summary: A tale of Louis not knowing how to be brave (yet) and Harry a open book for the world to read.I guess the fandom always knew the pair were meant to be together - and in some ways, they did too. Maybe Louis thought they were too young to know everything about love, but he never questioned his ability to protect Harry. Harry, on the other hand, never questioned anything except his ego and inability to make things better for Louis. Imagine two people fighting on the same side, but could never fight together.It probably inspires a few songs.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 1





	1. 1.0

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the [Fine Line Fic Fest](https://finelineficfest.tumblr.com//). Make sure you check out all the other great fics in the collection which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FineLineFicFest//)!
> 
> This story is inspired by "Fine Line" track 12. 
> 
> Please take note of the tags. This story may be triggering for some readers but it is a happy story, I promise! 
> 
> Also, comments are always appreciated. Please be sure to check out the other stories! The ones I've read were really good and make me feel low confident about my own lol

The substratum beneath Louis' feet begins to tremble. It moves but doesn't break, doesn't spread apart, nor gives any action scene like sequences. Somewhere deep inside, Louis wishes that this would be his rapture, that he'd somehow fall into the pits of a chasm and never return.

With one more swallow, he thinks, that this susurrus sound in his head is pounding, vanquishing even, but not enough to make him stop. No,  
that would take something much more robust, something as simple as willpower. He doesn't care to know where he can get some of that. 

"Don't ya think you've had enough?" Oil asks concerned as he scaffolds him from falling. 

"Ah, come on. You say that every night," Louis scolds him. "Besides, I think this one is going to ask me to take them home," He points to a group of men and women.

"Which one?" Oli raises an eyebrow.

"Doesn't matter to me, Mate," Louis pats him on the shoulder as he takes another drink, stumbling as he makes his way to the group.

His hair, usually a vibrant chestnut, is hidden under a blonde wig. His usual icy blue eyes become disguised with brown contacts. Self-tanner, he borrowed from his sister's company, is sprayed across his skin. It's on nights like these, Louis thinks, that he can be free. Sometimes, not a single person should know your name.

"You lot looking for company?" Louis slurs. "Mansion in the Hills," He brags. 

"I'll bite what you're fishing," A tall man flashes a smile.

"Only if it's hard," Louis stammers, trying to wink. "My name's William."

"Hayden," He shakes out his hand for Louis to shake.

Louis knits his brows together for a second, conjecturing  
why Harry is here. It's been so long since he's discerned his bandmate. It could be the way this man is built tall, proper fit, and has arm tattoos. Did he say his name was Harry, is that why?

"He doesn't look like Harry at all," he chuckles amongst himself once he blinks. "I'm losing it."

"Well, then, hold that thought," Louis clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he makes his way toward Oli once more. 

He snaps Oli's shot out of hand, downing the vodka in mere seconds. He wipes the corner of his mouth on his sleeve. "Hey, I'm ready to go if you are. I'll have company, though, so I'd appreciate it if you stayed downstairs."

"Fourth time this month," Oli rolls his eyes. "Maybe I should consider moving in with Calvin, or hell, Eleanor for all that matters," He, once again, holds Louis' up by the arm. "Not gonna be able to talk you out of this, am I?"

"No way," Louis dismisses as his wrist turns downwards. "Call me driver, yeah?"

With a heavy sigh, Oli whips out his phone as Louis pats him on the shoulder, chanting, "That's a good, Mate," as he makes his way back to the group of strangers.

The earth beneath Louis' feet begins to swing again. He feels as if tiny ballerina's on carousels and windmills are greeting him with  
sinister smiles, pirouetting their way into his brain, dancing to that annoying buzzing noise. 

With each step, his vision is a blur of a kaleidoscope of  
auras. He cannot make out the scenery anymore. His heart is slowly coming back down from its previous state. His breathing is being erratic, taking longer than usual to inhale and exhale. 

He drops on his knees, drawling out a pained cry. His stomach contents empty on the floor. He begins to shiver; a sudden coldness rushes over his body though he's sweating. He wants to call for Oli, his  
bodyguard - anyone. 

The pretty palette in his depth perception transforms into monochromatic grey and ebony tones. His contact lens feels dried out, itchy  
against his irises. He feels as if his head has an invisible plate of armor on  
it, suddenly. Unable to sustain the weight pressing on his body, he falls backward with a thud. 

He is startled awake by the sound of nails on a chalkboard. Before opening his eyes, he can smell pine and lemon cleaning  
solution. His gag reflex is instantly triggered. He tries to ruminate, but it's a lost cause. 

"Sorry," the woman says sincerely. "They called me to scrub behind this chair. They're loud against this tile. I didn't mean to startle you. I know you can't help your vomiting."

Louis' eyes slowly flutter open. A young woman is standing in front of him. Her scrubs are ragged, hair looks unkempt, but her smile is bedazzling. He notices that she is holding a mop, vigorously cleaning around his bed without asking for an autograph.

"Can I have some water?" He croaks out as he tries to sit up.

The woman walks over to the tray propped against the wall and pours him a tiny glass in a paper cup, bringing it back to his bedside. She pushes a button on the bed that makes it incline. "Here, ya go."

"Thanks, love," Louis half-smiles at her.

He chugs it down despite it feeling like glass going down his esophagus. Once finished, he tries to throw away the cup in the trash can by the bed but misses as it litters the floor.

"I'm Olivia, by the way," She waves at him. "Big fan." 

Oh, here we go. 

"Louis," He utters. "I 'uppose you can' share where I am?"

"You don't remember?" She asks, surprised. "Well, it's all over the news. You collapsed in Club Violet. #GetBetterLouis and #WeLoveYouLouis are trending all over twitter."

Louis' eyes grow wide as he faintly remembers bits and pieces. "What's all over the news, exactly?" 

"I'll let you look at it," She sighs as she gathers her cleaning supplies and wheels her cart toward the door. 

Louis sighs as he tries to grab his phone. Taking pity on him, Olivia retrieves it and places it in his hands. He quickly dismisses the  
hundreds of notifications, his fingers lingering over the twitter app. He isn't sure if he's ready for this, judging by Olivia's manner.

"Fuck!" He bangs his head on his pillow repeatedly.

"We love you no matter what, you know," Olivia cautiously adjust the bedding that he just strewed around. She wheels her cart back over the door and leaves this time.

Louis' eyes grow wide as he clicks on an article written by The Sun. 

Friday, just past midnight, Louis Tomlinson (pictured) was disguised in a blonde wig and brown contacts. Sources say he kept the tab hot, reportedly estimated to have drunk 6-7 shots. His friend, Oli Wright,  
(pictured) can be seen calling 999 as Louis collapses on the nightclub floor. 

Partygoers inform our editors that he was making plans with an attractive, mystery man. The scene comes as a shock to many as he frequently denied homosexuality over the years and reported to be straight. 

Between 2010-2015, Louis' sexuality was a hot topic as he was linked regularly to be in a secret romantic relationship with bandmate, Harry Styles. Fans have speculated that the rumors ruined their friendship as their interaction declined over the years.

Hopefully, Louis can get the help he needs and be back on  
his feet soon. We've reached out to Louis' girlfriend Eleanor Calder, pictured, and Tomlinson's management, but have not received any responses. 

"Oh, shit!" He snaps as he lets his phone fall in his lap.

In a panic, he tries to use the 'call nurse' button, but, per usual, it's just out of reach. He stretches as far as he can handle, his arm stinging as the I.V pulls taut. "Oh, shit! Fuck!" He continues. "Almost got it! Come on, Tommo!" He cheers himself on. 

Just as he grabs the remote, he finds himself splattered on the floor, monitors loudly beeping. He involuntarily puts his head between his knees to quieten the buzzing noise he remembers hearing at the nightclub. 

"Mr. Tomlinson!" He hears shoes scuffing the floor as a group of Nurses help put him back in the bed.

"Alright, alright. Let's not make a fuss, eh?" Louis speaks in frustration. "I was trying to call you lot, anyway." 

"Hello, Louis. I'm Nurse Emma. I'll be taking care of you this morning. Do you need anything?" She questions as she begins to write protocols on the dry erase board.

"Going home would be lovely," He tries to smile, but the blood gushing out of his arm due to the ripped out intravenous contraption hurts a tad.

He closes his eyes as another Nurse feels for his pulse, trying to insert it into a new spot. "Big stick," she preps him. "It's hard to find a good vein for you. You're so dehydrated and have little veins anyway."

"Oh, I do not. I'm big," Louis protests as he shuts his eyes and clinches his teeth together.

"I missed," The Nurse says sorrowfully. "Let me see your other hand." Louis sighs as he reads the name on her shirt: Becky. "There we go," She says in triumph.

"Fank you," Louis mutters as he turns his attention back to Nurse Emma. "So, about that going home piece, love?"

"Louis," She crosses her arms. "Did you know you suffered from alcohol poisoning last night?"

"Me suppose it's possible, yeah," He nods. "Proper blackout and all. I can see that, sure."

"Okay...and did you know that you were nearing a coma-like state when the paramedics arrived?" She sternly retorts.

Louis huffs, as his patience is growing thin. Can she just get to the point already?

"I know you're a big pop star and are used to getting your way, but you're to stay in this hospital, Mr. Tomlinson. Haven't you noticed how uncoordinated you are? With addicts," She tries to explain but is quickly interrupted.

"I'm not an addict, love," Louis answers amused.

"WITH ADDICTS," She emphasizes. "Shakiness of the hands shows up around 6 hours after your last drink. Well, you're enduring those right now, aren't you? Within the next few hours, you may hallucinate, seizures, high blood pressure, sweati-..."

"Why do you think I'm an addict? I don't do hard drugs," Louis discontinues her again. "Maybe in the past few months, I've been drinking when I go out. Is that what you want to hear? I'm ready to go home."

Nurse Becky shoots some sort of solution into Louis' I.V. as he gives her a sharp look. She smiles at him before backing away, allowing Nurse Emma to continue the spiel. "You are under a court-ordered, mandated 72-hour hold."

"What kind of fuckery is this?" Louis tries to stand up but notices his vision is getting a little hazy. He watches from hooded eyes as a third Nurse brings him over a copy of the court document. He flips to the last page, seeing the signature of his manager, Mark Gillespie. 

"Sleep well, Mr. Tomlinson. We'll come and check on you frequently." 

He looks at Nurse Becky and yawns. "Nobody ever answered why you think I'm an addict."

"I don't," Nurse Becky sympathized. "They found an incredible amount of benzos in your blood, more specifically, Rohypnol. It's a common date rape drug. Mixed with alcohol, well, it causes respiratory depression. Emma just wants you to be mindful of how much you drink. You could turn into an alcoholic, you know."

Louis tries to stay conscious and listen, but much like at the club, it's all ruinous.  
-

\------------

Three days of the same routine: meds, vitals, lectures came and went. Louis concludes that maybe being here hasn't been so bad. Here, he doesn't have to fix his hair, try and juggle countless obligations, or worry about his entire reputation coming undone from printed false stories. Here, all that's expected of him is resting and making promises that he understands the risk of promiscuous sex and drinking too much at parties.

"Happy to be home," he removes his feet from the dashboard of his car. "My back is killing me!"

"72-hour hold," Oli says as he lights up a cigarette and parks Louis' car in the garage. "I think you need a lifestyle change now, huh?"

"Not you too," Louis rolls his eyes. "Look, Mate, I'm young, wild, and free. We are going to go out Friday night, and I'm going to show you I can have a good time without getting out of hand."

"About that," Oli cautiously replies as he walks to the door. "Um, so, people have been blowing up my phone about you, and...." He scratches his head and takes a long drag of his cigarette.

"Spit it out already, yeah I wanna go inside and hug me dog," Louis smiles as he sees Clifford looking at him from the window.

"Harry said he's in London writing songs and made me promise I'd tell him the next time you go out. He wants to accompany us," Oli looks at Louis' nervously. "And well, I don't break promises, so."

Louis rubs his chin, looking ahead at his beautifully landscaped yard. "Looks like we have ourselves a proper date then. I haven't seen him in a while, yeah? Miss him. Miss them all."

He smiles as he enters his house, greeting Clifford and rolling around the floor with the curly-furred creature. "Missed you most."

After settling in, Louis decides that he's bored already. Restless. He tries to entertain himself with writing poetry, playing guitar, and watching television, but nothing seems to satisfy his needs. 

He scrolls through his contacts, contemplating who can fulfill that itch he has in the back of his throat. His mind briefly flutters to the Nurse's lecture on promiscuous sex, but then he digs his thumb in his thighs and dismisses the idea right away. 

"I'm thinking of calling Thayer," Louis blurts out absent-mindedly. 

"Is that such a good idea? You just got home from the hospital," Oli shakes his head in disbelief. 

"Don't you remember why we went clubbing in the first place? I am a man with needs, Oli. I want to be held, told I am pretty, and hurt all at the same time!"

"TMI," Oli shields his ears with his hands. 

"Sorry," Louis winks at him. "Not in a dominating way. Like literally hurt."

Oli stares at him. "Louis, something's going on with you. I wish you'd talk to me more."

"I'm trying," Louis sighs in frustration. "I just don't know how to explain it." He's quiet for a while, rubbing his hair with his hands. He knows he has these small nervous tics, but he just can't seem to find ways to stop them. "It's getting all too much. I don't want to sound spoiled."

"You don't have to worry about sounding like anything in front of me," Oli patted his shoulder.

"Since I was eighteen years old, I've been controlled and told who I can see, who I can't. I'm someone I don't want to be anymore. Every time I think of rebelling, I think of Harry, you know?" 

"Is that the only time you think about him?"

Louis begins to bite his nail. "Have you ever wanted to speak about something so bad, but you're afraid if you start, you'll never stop?" 

Oli puts his arm around Louis, the two of them sitting in comfortable silence. Clifford jumps up on the couch and joins them, making a small howl as he puts his head on Louis' lap. 

They don't notice the majestic orange and reds of sunset have transformed into the twinkling of stars and fireflies. Louis doesn't even see when Oli simply hides his phone under a couch cushion, hoping he will forget about inviting anyone over - especially another creep that he can't help but hate. He hates them all. 

Louis picks the worst people he can find, I swear. Then again, that's the only type of person who would sign a non-disclosure agreement for their silence, with a small fee attached, of course.

"I'm going to bed," Oli yawns. "Had to get up early and pick someone up."

"You love it," Louis yawns back. "But that isn't such a bad idea. Had my fair share of resting at the hospital, but I could sleep all day, every day." 

"I know," Oli laughs. "Don't forget your phone." 

"Fanks," Louis mutters as he makes his way up the stairs. Before putting the device on charge, he notices the notifications from his other friends. 

(Niall) Glad to see you're home, Tommo  
(Liam) You had me worried sick. Call me and stay off Twitter.  
(Eleanor) So is my contract over now?  
(Harry) Call me Lou, pls x  
(Calvin) What the fuck u went out w/o me! This woulda never happened under my watch.  
(Hot-Luke): LouLou pic eh

"I love them all," Louis smiles. 

It isn't until he sees a text from his business partners that the smile falters.

Simon (Group text to Mark, Louis, and Team): My office at 8 am.

"Well, almost all of them."  
\--------  
He shifts around uncomfortable in the leather chair as he waits on Simon and his goons to come into the conference room. He browses through his phone as he reads the comments from fans. Most are saying how concerned they are about him; others are sending him praise for finally being comfortable with his sexuality.

I wish that were true.

"Louis," Simon points a remote to the wall as a projector screen comes down. "Hope you are doing better."

"Me suppose I am, yeah," Louis doesn't look at Simon. His eyes stay glued to the floor.

"A 72-hour hold. This is a remnant of 2015, don't you think? You go out every night, being photoed of every woman with a pulse. The difference here, Louis, I gotta tell you. It's not easy to say. The medical scare is good publicity....being seen trying to pick up men is bad publicity," Simon taps his fingers on the table. "We have to fix this."

"Simon," Mark warns. "No. Louis is suffering, can't you see that?" 

"With all due respect, Mr. Gillispe, you are his manager. I am one of his record execs. I am here to sell records."

"With all due respect, Mr. Cowell, what does him dancing with men have to do with that?" Mark taps Louis' shoulder.

"Quite frankly," Simon turns his chair around and faces Louis square. "I'm not opposed to dropping you. You haven't even released a record yet. I don't have anything stopping me. Your singles, I graciously let you drop, didn't perform the numbers I wanted anyway."

Mark and Louis look at each-other hopefully. Please, please. Drop me.

"But that would be losing another member of One Direction. I'd have to let you go from that contract, too. Hiatus isn't forever, you know," Simon smirks when he sees Louis winches. "Do you know what I'm going to do for you, Louis? I'm going to give you a quarter year break."

"But my album," he tries to protest, but Simon waves his hand. 

"Four months to clear your head and think of what's essential. One more stunt like that, and I'll not have any choice. I thought you understood the agreement when I flew you to America when you were 18. Mr. Styles might appreciate your compliance. You don't want him to have to start picking up the slack and stunting, do you?"

Louis grimaces as he nods silently, his eyes settling into his lap. Mark opens his mouth to speak but decides it against when he notices Louis digging his nails into the flesh of his wrists. Simon smirks as he gets up to leave. 

"If you agree to this little mental health break, please sign on the dotted line so I can request a mental health leave of absence. This includes no promo, no photoshoots, no studio time. You need to stay indoors and focus," Simon scoots the request toward Louis' manager and leaves the room.

"Louis," Mark says softly, but Louis just grabs a pen and quickly scribbles his name.

"Hey, thanks for coming today. It's nice to have people on my side. I think this break will do me good, yeah?" He turns on his heel and exits the building. 

He walks to the parking garage and locates his car, unlocking it quickly and jumping in the driver's seat. He locks his doors back, just in case, and looks around the multimillion-dollar establishment. He thinks, for a moment, that this is the place that bestowed both financial freedoms and made him a prisoner of circumstance. 

"Fuck!" He screams as he bites his finger. 

The tears begin to drip down his face as he hits his steering wheel over and over again, each punch making his hand whither in pain. He stops when he is satisfied with the stinging, to only turn his attention to banging his head on his seat. 

"FUCK!" 

He knows my weakness. He just had to bring Harry into this. He knows I don't give a shit about myself, but Hazza deserves to be free. He deserves to live his life, wearing his pearls, and wave around rainbow flags. He does. I won't take that away from him. 

With the radio blaring, Louis revs his engine as he rushes out of the parking garage, away from this forsaken graveyard.

\------

Friday night arrives without incident. Louis tries to stay in the house and not raise attention to himself as he settles into his new routine: eat, sleep, think. Oli gives him worrisome vibes as they cross each-others company, though the small talk has mainly ceased.

It makes him angry that all he's focused on and promised has been his album. Finally, something to call his own and showcase his musical skills - for everyone to take him seriously, and just like that, he is silenced. Simon has an uncanny way of taking away his voice, and Louis is unsure if he will ever escape the nightmare he's been in for a decade now.

"I'm ready," He calls from the bathroom, spritzing cologne on his neck. "Except, I need you to cover my arm tattoos."

His hair is red tonight. It isn't a wig, but semi-permanent dye. He decides against the contact lens this time, afraid that his body is still not hydrated enough to not suffer the dry eye itch. He dresses in all black clothing, reminiscent of his 2015 bad-boy vibes. Nobody will expect this; he concludes as he glances at his dirty laundry - trackies and straight-legged jeans in a disorderly pile. 

"What?" Oli gasps. "Why don't you just wear long sleeves?"

"It's too obvious," Louis mewls. "I can't be papped. Nobody can recognize me, Oli. No-one!" 

Sighing, Oli grabs the dermablend out of Louis' hands and reads the directions. "The things I do for you."

"You love me," Louis shrugs as Clifford whimpers for attention at his feet. "I'll be back soon, bud," he says, petting his fur with his free hand. 

Twenty minutes later, they head out the door. Louis' driver, Sam, meets them at the curb. They wordlessly ride to RainbowCharms, Louis criticizing himself for not getting a kickstart on his drinking. The only way that Oli agreed to go, however, is if he promised not to get out of hand; and well, drinking before leaving the house has its potential for that. 

"Just call when you're ready to come, boys," Sam says as he unlocks the door.

"Will do, Mate," Louis pats him on the shoulder as they exit out the car.

The first thing they notice when they walk in is the strong-shouldered, dark-haired man pacing around the VIP section. Louis smiles when he sees silver rings reflecting off the strobe lights, almost as if they're signaling him to make his presence known and save this man from loneliness. 

Louis' heart begins to beat fast. As he walks, he cracks his fingers, twirls around the turquoise VIP bracelet, breathing heavily. Oli places his hand on the small of his back for comfort, but it is not working. It's been so long since he's seen Harry that he isn't sure what to say. He isn't sure how to act for that matter. 

What are we now? 

He walks up the stairs, clearing his throat as he smiles gleefully. He beams when Harry places his hands behind his back and bows at him, giving a subtle grin.

"Red hair?" Harry questions as he hugs Louis tightly, slightly lifting him off the ground. "Did you get your tattoos lasered off?" He asks hurt, taking Louis' arm and twisting it back and forth.

"Never love," Louis disagrees. "I just covered them up. Don't want another incident like last week, you know? Tabloids and all of that. You were smart to wear street clothes and a ball cap." 

"Hey Oli," Harry blushes. 

"Hey. Nice to see ya!" He smiles and looks between the two. "I'll be back." Oli walks down the VIP area and greets people in the common area. 

Louis can't help but stare. His eyes are the same emerald bedazzling color that he always has gazed in for hours, for days, for years. They radiate hope, warmth, home even. He notices that there is something a little somber in them, perhaps dimming just a tad. 

"I can't believe it's been 6 months since I've seen you," Harry sits down at the bar, his body turned toward Louis. he orders two Miami Sunrise. "Life moves too fast." 

"That it does," Louis agrees as he sips on his drink. "So, why'd you want to come out with me now? I mean, I've missed you, of course, but...." 

"I couldn't wait," Harry answers honestly. "After seeing you passed out. I was so worried. I wanted to see you at the hospital, but I got a nasty text," He lowers his head in shame. 

"Nasty text?" Louis doesn't sip this time, gulping down his drinking and requesting a straight shot of vodka. "From who?"

"Doesn't matter. I shouldn't have listened. I thought I was doing you a favor, but then Liam said," Harry takes a sip from his drink, allowing Louis to interrupt.

"Liam!" Louis snaps. "He promised me he wouldn't tell anyone. Oh well, it doesn't matter. We are here together now, eh?" Louis reasons as he orders another shot.

"Exactly," Harry smirks as he takes the vodka from Louis. "You trying to end up back in the hospital? Alcoholism is serious, you know."

"Except," Louis sighs as he pulls Harry in to whisper in his ear. "I was roofied." 

"You were not," Harry dismisses. 

"I was so you little shit!" Louis teases. "Granted, I can't tell you the number of drinks I had that night, but that's just a minor detail." 

"Very minor," Harry hums as he orders them two glasses of water with lemon. "Care to dance?"

"Always," Louis says excitedly, sipping the water and then ordering a shot instead. "Trying to trick me, Styles? You're so cute. Now, shall we?"

Much to Louis' delight, it isn't long before Harry stands behind him, pushing their bodies together. He wraps one arm around Louis' waist, the other is laying lazily at his side. This feels so natural - the same way their bodies have always tangled; two souls igniting, even if only for a flicker in time. 

His teeth sink deep into his bottom lip, a bitten raw reminder that this is real. This is real. This is not Hayden. This is not Noah. Logan. Anastasia. This is Harry, his Harry. He's dancing with his Harry in the safety of this club, with red hair and covered tattoos. 

Harry sways them both back and forth, his free hand wrapping itself around Louis' throat. It's funny that this being here in this embrace, is the only way he can breathe - feel anchored. 

& it's the only thing they have to smother me, float away in this endless sea of madness. 

"Louis," Harry purrs in his ear, bringing them back into the here and now. He says other words, but Louis is drunk - he's so drunk. He's gone. He doesn't ever want to be sober again. He wants to forever enjoy this intoxicating fragrance of his emerald home.

He places his hand on top of Harry's, sweating beading down his torso as he feels Harry thumb at his waistband. He's not sure if he will make it through this night alive if he can continue to breathe, not just be here. For so long, this was the high he's changing. 

But for how long? 

"Fucking geez, Mate," Oli pants. "I had to show all sorts of I.D and jump through hoops to get back up to this lounge! I mean, I know I'm just here because of your status or whatever but.....oh," He stops as he trails away, gawking at his friend. "I'm just going us a drink...."

Louis heard Oli's voice, but he can't gather the ability to care. He doesn't care that he's vulnerable, not so rigid tonight. He's tired of being tough - he only wants to be loved, and well, he only wants to be loved this way. 

"You came to this club tonight to be on my side of London," Harry's baritone voice rings in his ear. "Come home with me tonight, Louis." 

The hand wrapped around Louis' throat tilts his chin up, their eyes meeting for the first time during the song. Auras of seafoam surround them as Louis' mouth falls open, a plea to be released, sent into the euphoric sky. 

He feels Harry breathing on him, and just before he can gather his thoughts, let himself continue to live in the vulnerability, he pulls away. Simon's words, his prison putting on chains again. With a small sigh, he turns away, facing Harry and smiling.

A wounded expression twinkles on Harry's face as Louis pulls away and joins Oli at the bar. He holds up 4 fingers, going down the line and swinging them back rapidly. He slams the glass on the bar, winking at Harry as he kisses his cheek. 

"No drugs on the bottom of these, eh?" Oli taunts, trying to lighten the mood as Harry stands bewildered. "Won't be any tabloids in the morning. This disguise is great, right?" 

"It is," Harry agrees as he watches Louis dance around with himself. "Still beautiful, though." 

Oli pats him on the back before trying to catch Louis from going down the stairs of the VIP lounge, ushering his presence back up. "Maybe I should call Sam to get us."

"Care if I join you?" Harry is surprised at the sound of his own voice booming. "I'll wait with you until my driver comes."

"Have at it," Louis slurs as he confidently grabs ahold of Harry. His palms are holding the bends of Harry's sleeves tightly. "I love this song." 

His body begins to radiate heat. Ths schnapps fills his senses with fruity overtones, but it's his heart that's bursting with flames. "Harry?" He whispers when he stumbles froward, their bodies slam together. 

"Shh," Harry hushes him, holding them together like a puzzle piece. "I won't let you go." 

"Dance with me," Louis says in a stupor state. "Just dan-,"

"Louis," Oli gasps as he sees a tear fall from a sparkling blue eye. Harry nods at him, I have this now in his subconscious. 

They support him up, making their way outside and into the waiting vehicle. Not another word is said - the alcohol making an already weak Louis fall deep into slumber. 

"Thanks for being here tonight," Oli sighs as they slam the door shut. "Can we do this tomorrow?"

"What?" Harry gapes. "I'm proper wore out." 

"Tomorrow will be bad, just so you know."  
-

\------------


	2. 2.0

"That was a sick night, Mate!" Louis breathes heavily through his nostrils. "I didn't realize how much I needed that." He turns his body as he stumbles just the slightest bit.

Harry grabs Louis' arm to steady his feet. "Come in! You and Oli both. We used to live together, remember?" He feels awkward and hurt at the same time when Louis backs away a little and scratches his scalp. With the stars aglow, he turns his body toward the quiet man. "It will be fun. I will stay out of your way, promise. Please?"

He looks at Louis' wandering face. His eyes are gleaming with flecks of stars and galaxies that create gravity, pulling Harry into an ethereal force. They're pleading for Harry to do something else, Harry notices, but he can't piece together what. 

"Please!" Harry repeats. He can feel Louis' muscles tremble when he brushes his arm again. He's not sure if he will ever break that habit—a little glint of hope flashes before his eyes when Louis doesn't pull away this time. 

"Sure, love. I guess we can stay one night, yeah?" Louis mirrors Harry's smile. 

"Yes!" Oli agrees.

"I'm always a good host; you know that!" He unlocks his door and turns on his lights. "You won't regret it."

Wrinkling his nose, he turns and walks toward the kitchen. It's been years since he'd been graced with the task of getting Louis something in his home. The last time, he thinks, wasn't on the best terms. 

"So, um, I'm going to go and call Calvin," Oli says awkwardly as he scurried up the stairs. "I'll find a guest room no worries!" 

"Old man!" Louis teased as Oli looked back at him and flipped him off. 

"You probably won't touch this strawberry wine because you have a new chav persona and all. I know you used to like it," Harry teases. "Just in case, here is some rose wine too."

"Strawberry and rose, huh? So diverse," Louis sarcastically replies. "What makes you think I've changed? I'm still the same guy you met in the band, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry replies simply. He stops himself from having this conversation tonight. He's just happy that Louis agreed to stay the night at all. It isn't worth scaring him away.

He stares at Louis, hoping his face isn't radiating with butterflies. He's always loved this man, and well, Louis used to allow him to. That was so long ago when we were free, he reminisces. 

Shifting around uncomfortably, Louis pops the cork on the wine and pours the contents in chilled glasses. Harry watches as he takes large gulps, finishing in mere seconds only to serve himself another.

"Mmm. That is quite tasty. Should've known you'd have posh wine," Louis approves. "So, I was talking to Oli the other day, right? He was proper wasted. I was too to be fair. Anyway, he kept rambling on about how I go out too much, blah blah blah. I said back to him, 'You're always right beside me, Mate.' He dared to say he's protecting me. Protecting me from what?" Louis scoffs. "Thanks, daddy Wright," He giggles.

"What do you do exactly when you go out?" Harry questions nonchalantly. He stares at a little freckle on Louis' cheek, taking a small sip of wine. 

Hopefully, not stuck in 2015, Harry secretly crosses his fingers mentally.

"Usually, I just dance with someone." Louis shrugs. "Oli thinks I have some weird complex. He says I pick the most touchy-feely person in the room and hope they'll let me take them home."

Harry tries to hide his envy with a half-smile. "Hmm."

Yep. He is. 

"I know. That's weird, right?" Louis chuckles. "Like it isn't that big of a deal. I'm a man in my 20s. I've got time to find my person." 

Harry looks at Louis softly. "You've worried me a few times."

"I remember," Louis smirks, rubbing the little stubble on his chin. "Liam said you were just jealous back then."

Harry ponders that sentence as he runs his fingers through his curls. "Well, there's that. It was also the fact that you were dancing with little black dresses. They kept pushing that stupid narrative on you and....." Harry sighs.

"You're cute," Louis clicks his tongue to the top of his mouth. "No narrative. I'm straight, I swear," He smirks. "Obviously."

Then what were we?

"We've been controlled since we were kids," Harry rubs his hands together as Louis' mouth opens then closes. "Want to hear a famous Styles rant for old times?"

"Not tonight, love," Louis smiles as crinkles form by his eyes. "I was there; I lived that. I probably feel the same. Let's just.... enjoy the rest of the evening."

"Touché," Harry stuck out his lips like an eloquent amphibian. 

Louis' reserved for a while. He looks out of Harry's bay window; his arms crossed over his waist. 

I'm losing him to his walls again. 

"My album's almost finished," Harry gulps, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He takes a sip and crosses his legs. The wine feels like sweet nectar as it paints his throat. 

Louis bites his lip harshly before downing another. "Yeah? I've heard one," he sets his glass on the coffee table. "Golden."

"You're lying," Harry gasps as he grabs the two bottles and takes them back to the refrigerator. Lou's had enough, he thinks. "It hasn't been released yet!"

"Then how do I know the name, love?" Louis retorts back as he grabs Harry's glass and begins to sip. "The lyrics are phenomenal, by the way." 

"Thank you," Harry blushes. "Who gave you a copy of my demo, anyway?" He says half-heartedly.

Louis scoots closer to him. "I have my sources," Louis exacerbates as his wrist slowly turns down. "It's fabulous. It speaks to me." 

"There's the Louis I met in 2010, by the way," Harry says as he takes back his wine glass. "Intelligent, emotional, sassy, flamboyant, yet sinister," 

Louis scoots the slightest bit closer to Harry. He crosses one leg over the other and rests his head on the arm of the couch. "Too in love to think straight. That's a no-no in a boyband. Hey, can I try another flavor now?"

Harry quickly drinks the glass in his hand that Louis is trying to grab. "Is it that awkward being around me?" He didn't mean to ask that question out loud. "Do you have to fill your blood with alcohol to tolerate me?" He tries to ask jokingly. His voice sounds subdued, somewhat insecure, but he is proud of the composure he can convey. 

"Of course not, love," Louis cautiously puts his hand on Harry's thigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just nervous is all."

"Nervous? Louis, we used to share toothbrushes!" Harry giggles. 

"You've always made me nervous," Louis tries to whisper. The alcohol only intensifies the raspiness in his voice.

He can't tell if the wine is beginning to hit him, or it's the way Louis still has his hand on his thigh. He doesn't care to know. He just wants to bask in this heat forever. 

"I know that you're scared because I'm so open," Louis hums.

Harry's eyes widen when Louis slithers his way into his lap. His knees are sunk deep in the couch, putting them face to face. Harry breathes in mint, wine, and cigarettes. His mouth flies open as he feels hot breath on his lips. 

"I used to sit in your lap all the time," Louis' voice is quivering. "Do you remember that?"

Harry wraps his long arms around the small of Louis' back. He holds him close to his chest. Louis' head falls to his inviting shoulder.

"I remember it," Louis continues. "It was the only place I was allowed to be myself. Will you dance with me, Harry, like when we were young?" 

As he removes himself from Harry's lap and offers his hand for support, Harry can't help but miss the weight that was on top of him. He is eager to hold his hand, his heart beating loudly.

Can he hear that?

"I'd be honored," Harry tries to bow gracefully but stumbles. "Just let me do something really quick." 

He asks his app to dim the lights before walking to the restroom to wash his face. He checks himself in the mirror, critically kicking himself for having bloodshot eyes and greasy hair. He sprays dry shampoo on the top of his curls, massaging it in. He spritzes a little cologne on his neck. God knows he has an unlimited supply of Gucci since being their spokesman. 

"Okay, it's just Louis, and he doesn't give a shit about the way you look. This will be just two friends dancing," Harry monologued himself in the mirror. "Strawberry lip balm just in case," He pointed his finger.

By the time he makes it back into the living room, the scene in front of him pulls out a fond stare at his bandmate. Louis, who was swaying back and forth to imaginary music, was sipping wine straight from the bottle that Harry knows he put back in the refrigerator earlier.

"There you are, Mate!" Louis rushes over to him, excitedly. "No more, I promise," he puts the bottle down on the table. "Just had a dry mouth is all." He beams at him. "Take my hand, Hazza."

Hazza. Mmm. He's trying to kill me tonight.

"Any request?" Harry's voice breaks as Louis reaches out his hand delicately, his wrist slightly bent.

"Golden," Louis says confidently. "I want you to play that record for us."

"Okay," Harry agrees. Without faltering, he reaches down and retrieves his phone. With quivering fingers, he opens his voice memos. A stripped-down early version of -+6+3begins to vibrate through the air.

Louis wraps his arms around Harry's neck, holding him tightly, bringing their bodies together. Harry can feel his pearl necklace pressing against Louis' chest tattoo. With the earth moving beneath their feet, they begin to sway to the slow tune erupting through the darkness.

_Golden, golden, golden  
As I open my eyes  
Hold it, focus, hoping  
Take me back to the light  
I know you were way too bright for me  
I'm hopeless, broken  
So you wait for me in the sky  
Browns, my skin just right._

Louis takes his head and puts it in the crook of Harry's neck, his fluffy chestnut hair entangling with Harry's. He staggers his way through twists and rocking back and forth. He tries to get even closer, pressing their hips together. His breath is vibrating Harry's ear as he whispers the lyrics. 

Harry congeals the grip on his waist, his face moving to feel the slight stubble on Louis' left cheek. He swallows when he feels tiny droplets slide underneath his shirt. Instinctively, he removes one hand and feels Louis' jawline to confirm what he already knows.

You're so golden  
You're so golden  
I'm out of my head  
And I know that you're scared  
Because hearts get broken.

"It's okay," he promises as he uses the pad of his thumb to wipe away a stray tear streaming down the gorgeous face. 

"Wine makes me emotional," Louis removes his head for a second to look at Harry and half-smile, only to quickly place it back in the crook of his neck.

"I know," Harry hums.

He brings his hand to the back of Louis' neck, caressing the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck. He changes the rhythm to a slightly slower pace, watching the moonlight illuminate half of their bodies. He shuts his eyes, trying to control his own sentiments when he feels another teardrop drip down.

_I don't wanna be alone  
I don't wanna be alone  
When it ends  
Don't wanna let you know  
I don't wanna be alone  
But I, I can feel it take a hold (I can feel it take a hold)  
I can feel you take control (I can feel you take control)  
Of who I am and all I've ever known  
Loving you's the antidote._

"Lou?" Harry's voice breaks. 

"Loving you's the antidote," he hears Louis echo after the original line has passed on the speakers. He can feel Louis' lip quivering on the vein protruding from his neck. His shirt is messy with all that comes with crying, but all he can focus on is the puzzling turn of the mood.

Louis' knees suddenly buckle, his body drawls over though he's still holding onto Harry's neck. Harry positions him to where they're hip to hip, one hand around his waist while the other is under his arm, helping him up the stairs. 

The music follows them as they make their way up the marble staircase.

_Golden  
You're so golden  
I don't wanna be alone  
You're so golden  
You're so golden  
I'm out of my head  
And I know that you're scared  
Because hearts get broken  
I know that you're scared  
Because I'm so open._

Harry guides Louis to one of his spare bedrooms. Inside are grey walls with twinkling lights hanging from the ceiling. Cashmere sheets and auras of blue and grey blankets reside on the neatly made-up bed. 

"Is this room, okay?" Harry questions softly.

"Of course, Mate," Louis tries to smile. He raises the bottom of his shirt to dab his eyes. His cheeks are red, which matches the whites of his eyes. Harry notes that he's never seen a more beautiful shade of blue under the lights aglow. He stares at Louis' shaking hands, unable to control the urge to put his on top for comfort.

"Sorry about that down there. I think I had one too many," Louis slightly giggles. "Are you upset with me?"

"Upset with you? Of course not, Lou! We've had many nights like this over the years," Harry begins to rub small circles on his hand. "You can always be yourself around me."

Louis smiles at Harry, resting his head on his shoulder once again. 

"I know that you're scared because I'm so open," Louis whispers, his voice breaking through most of the words. The tears begin to fall once again, his lip quivering, and his eyes immediately shut as he curls himself into a ball on the bed, head in Harry's lap, his shirt covering his face.

Harry falters for a second - the wine clouding his judgment. He doesn't know how to act in this new normal between them. In the past, he would've just laid them both down and whispered sweet nothings until Louis fell asleep. Considering they're mostly strangers, however, he doesn't know what Louis wants, or if Louis even wants anything from him anymore. 

He stops breathing momentarily when Louis curls even more in his lap, his hands covering his thighs tightly. "I don't wanna be alone, I don't wanna be alone," Louis hums.

He can feel Louis removing his shirt from his face, using it to dab his eyes before tossing it on the floor. His bare chest is shimmering under the iridescent lights. Harry gasps when he sees love bites littered across his collarbones and the back of his neck. They look painful, Harry notices, but quickly terminates his analysis when he feels a pang in his stomach.

"You, uh, can I get you some water?" Harry offers just to fill in the silence. 

There's tension in the air, Harry notices, or maybe it's just him; it's hard to tell. His own thoughts are becoming hazy as the wine begins to kick in for him, too. 

"I'm, um, yeah, I'd like that," Louis lets out a small yawn. 

"Be right back," Harry beams as he goes into his bedroom and retrieves a water bottle out of his min fridge. "It's sparkling."

"Expect nothing else from you, love." Louis chuckles as he wipes his eyes again. "Can we never speak of this night again?" 

"Never," Harry agrees as he opens the cap and tilts the bottle to Louis' lips. "Your secrets are and always have been safe with me." 

Louis smiles in appreciation as he unbuttons his jeans, only to remove his socks and shoes first, then sliding them down his legs. He crawls in the bed and snuggles into the blankets swiftly. "You were right about one thing – way better than any hotel. Five stars."

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, afraid if he moves any, that Louis will suddenly remember that he's there and kick him out of the room. He knows it's irrational – Louis just complimented him on his manners, yet, he also understands there is a certain fragility that comes with the pair of them being in the same room. 

He watches Louis shift on his back, throwing a decorative pillow up in the air and catching it over and over again. His brows knit together when he trails a stray tear roll down the freckled cheeks once more. Louis must notice, he thinks, as he rapidly wipes it away with the pillow he's holding. He gives Harry a reassuring smile as the tears begin to flow once more.

"Sorry. That wine is hitting me extra hard. I haven't cried in so long; I think I needed that, anyway. I'm glad I stayed," He yawns. 

"Me too," Harry cautiously grabs Louis' arm, resting their foreheads together. "Goodnight, Lou."

"What?" Louis sits up, his legs going Indian style under the covers. "No cuddles? 4 stars!"

Harry licks his lips; a devious smile appears on his face. He unbuttons his bellbottoms and kicks off his shoes, removing his shirt and getting on top of the blanket. When Louis shoots him a 'what the heck' look, he puts his long legs under the covers.

"It just still feels forbidden," Harry admits.

"It does," Louis agrees. "But it's so nice when we get to be, huh?" He intertwines his legs in between Harry's. "I'm glad you paint your nails now."

"You encouraged me in front of the whole world, remember?" Harry laughs as Louis nods. "Paint the whole nails, you said. I only vaguely remembered it until I saw a forum about it on tumblr."

"They're pretty. Stalking the fans again, eh?" Louis smirks at him, no apology in his voice. He lets out a long yawn as he closes his eyes briefly. "I'm trying to stay awake, but…." He yawns again.

"It's fine," Harry promises. "You don't have to rush off tomorrow, do you?"

"Not really rush, but I have a meeting at 6 in LA. I'll probably leave after breakfast," Louis contemplates. "I don't wanna be alone, I don't wanna be alone," He mumbles as his chest begins to fall up and down.

Harry stays in bed a while, listening to Louis' restless sleep. He runs his fingers across his love bites tenderly, wondering if that's the reason he always wears turtlenecks in public, even in hot weather. He can't help but wonder why they're so deep like they're not made from love at all.

He didn't even consider moving until he felt his own eyes beginning to feel weighed down. With Louis asleep, he can't ask for consent to stay in bed with him, so he has no choice but to go to bed in his room. 

"Goodnight, Lou," He mutters in his ear as he tries to get out of the covers gracefully. Of course, with Harry, that is not possible. As he tries to remove his foot, it catches on the blanket, and he falls on the floor with a thud, ripping it from Louis' curled body.

"Sorry," He whispers in the air, noticing that Louis doesn't even move, his body still letting out small puffs of air.

Harry picks the blanket up out of the floor, gasping as he puts it back on Louis' body. He peeks under the blanket one more time, just to be sure. When he realizes it was not a mirage, he rushes to the bathroom, his stomach suddenly queasy, and he throws up its wine contents.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, brushing his teeth and using mouthwash before reentering Louis' borrowed room. He peers under the covers one more time – noticing the black, grey, and green bruises littered across his upper thighs. He sticks his lips out in a thinking manner when he sees they're in the shape of teeth marks and fingerprints. 

Breathing heavy, he decides that he will make a note of this – talk to Louis when the timing is right.

Will it ever be?

\-----------------------

The sun peers through the window, its aura is reflecting on the wall of mirrors in the bedroom. Louis curses slightly at Harry's choice of décor, but then fondly smiles when he realizes, well, IT IS Harry's choice of décor. 

He massages his temples, trying to soothe his pounding head. He looks around the room, noticing Harry's jeans on the floor beside his.

"Wait; what?" Louis scans his memories, only to not have any recollection after asking Harry to dance. "Oh, fuck!" He panics as he rushes into Harry's room. 

Harry is still asleep, his arm over his eyes. He looks as if he hadn't been to sleep long, Louis notices because his breathing isn't too deep. "Hazza!" Louis says with urgency. "Last night, did we…? Haz, wake up!" He shakes him lightly.

"Hmm?" Harry manages to reply, yawning.

"Last night, you and me, did we…did we come up and?" Louis begins to stutter. "Did we…..?"

Harry sits up and rubs his eyes. "Did we what, Lou?" 

Louis swallows thickly as he gives Harry a freaked look. "Our jeans are beside my bed."

"Oh!" Harry yawns. Louis watches as he stares at his thighs a little too long. By instinct, he looks down, gasp, and covers his bruises. 

Shit, I forgot about those!

"We just cuddled. We've never done anything like that. You're straight," He gives Louis a half-smile. "You were a bit emotional, remember?" Harry asked slowly. Louis shakes his head no as he continues to cover his thighs. Harry opens his mouth to speak but quickly shuts it. "You have to be in LA by 4, yeah?"

"Yeah, right," Louis says as he turns back around. "I'm just going to go shower. I'll let you go back to sleep. You look like you need it, love."

Harry doesn't lie back down. Instead, his eyes trail to the back of Louis' body. Louis can feel Harry burning holes in his thighs. When he gets inside the bathroom, he looks at himself through the various mirrors hanging up in the guest bathroom. He turns around and notices that his back legs are spread with bites and fingerprints too. He wants to tell Harry, but he can't.

How can he explain to someone who is just so open that he is ashamed of who he is? How does he admit that he lets people hurt him out of punishment? How does one say that they hate the pain, but it's the only thing that makes it okay to feel pleasure? If someone hurts themselves enough, they can't get lost in the intimacy, only feel its surface, only feel the pain. If there's no passionate connection, it's not unusual, is it? How do you tell the world that you're something else when the only option that is in your contract is… hetero?

Louis turns on the water and lets it heat up to the perfect temperature before removing his underclothes and sitting on the marbled seat in the shower. He puts his feet up and hugs his knees to his chest, enjoying the way the water is kind of soothing his migraine. As the blood courses throughout his body, he hums the words to Golden, growing wide-eyed when he recalls some of the events last night. 

"I don't wanna be alone, I don't wanna be alone," He sings. "I bet he thinks I'm proper crazy," Louis scolds himself. 

He lets the water wash over him for a long while, trying to wash his thoughts down the drain too.

\-----------------------

"Morning," Harry pipes softly as he looks up from his cup of tea. 

"Morning, love," Louis joins him at his kitchen table. "Sorry again about last night."

"I'm not," Harry looks in Louis' eyes for a moment, smiling fondly. "You're the most beautiful person when you cry. It's like your tears shine like stars across your freckles."

"You've told me that before," Louis stutters. "At Princess Park." 

"Meant it then, mean it now," Harry replies, a smug grin on his lips. "So, um, you have a meeting at 6?"

"Yeah, I, uh," Louis begins to thumb his thigh nervously. "I do." 

Harry stands up as he slowly approaches Louis. "You're always welcome here, okay? I want to be whatever you want me to be. I'm here for you. I feel so bad that I let Simon and his goons influence me in the past. I'm sorry for the strain in the band."

"Don't mention it," Louis scoots slightly back. "I was a young and stupid person in the midst of all that too."

"Morning," Oli yawns as he comes from down the stairs dressed in Harry's silk pajamas.

"So, we should probably get going," He looks at Oli. "I have an appointment at 6." 

"Right," Oli says disappointed. "Thanks for letting us stay, Harry. These pajamas are heavenly."

"Don't mention it," Harry giggles. "I'll walk you guys out."


End file.
